Whack-a-mole

One of my girls said something to me the other day as we sat at an NBA game we couldn’t care less about – “He’ll come back. It’s like whack-a-mole with these guys. They always come back.” She’s right.

I had just finished regaling her with the story of how, for some unknown reason, a guy I’ve gone on a few dates with stopped communicating with me completely over the last few days. Two weeks earlier, he and I had a long conversation about how his work had picked up unexpectedly and how it was abnormal but that he just couldn’t justify going out to dinner and drinks when his business was on the line. I get that. We’ve all had work dominate our lives for a bit.

All was well until last weekend when I threw out a ‘what are you up to’ Friday night text and learned he was out drinking with his buddies. The following night he ignored my invitation to order in and called it an early night on his end.

These men are not mindless objects, like the poor seaside boardwalk mechanical groundhogs who have no choice but to pop back up only to be swatted with a padded mallet. But they do mimic the groundhogs by reappearing in random order at the most unexpected times. It’s never when you want them to either, which should be noted. And no one can really tell you how they’ll react when the hog pops.

Here I am hoping this dude will text me – I can’t reach out again with my last invitation hanging in the wind. Meanwhile, the ghost from one of our previous episodes has taken to sending me sweet nothings.

It’s a bit of a mind melt. Confusing at best and aggravating at worst. However, it makes one thing clear, I shouldn’t expend energy on someone who isn’t excited to do the same. We’re out here to make the best decisions for us and our moods and schedules cannot be dictated by someone else’s whim (read: pop up) who clearly isn’t interested enough to be engaged and accessible to what we need.

Another friend says she wishes we could send this guy an open letter. “It has come to our attention that you are not treating [LP] the way she deserves. Shape up. Signed her crew.” In a perfect world, I’d send that letter. The response might not be what I’m going for, but who knows, maybe when enough time passes I’ll peel that stamp.

In the meantime, on to the next! (When he pops up, I’ll let you know.)

 

 

 

 

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